


once more venture home

by psikeval



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Codependency, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:13:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5722360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psikeval/pseuds/psikeval
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You will withhold from me a real pleasure if you do not favor me with your commands freely."</p>
<p>- James Madison, in a letter to Thomas Jefferson, 1786</p>
            </blockquote>





	once more venture home

**Author's Note:**

> the [actual correspondence](http://vexilloquy.tumblr.com/tagged/liveblogging-letters) between these two was really something else, okay

 

The shopping plaza’s more crowded than he expected for eight o’clock at night. Madison takes his time navigating the parking lot, which is the usual mix of bad drivers and interminably slow pedestrians, until he’s managed to secure a spot. Then he flattens his grocery list on the steering wheel, picks a pen off the floorboard, and hits the first number on his speed dial.

Thomas picks up only just before the call can go to voicemail.

“James.”

He sounds displeased, but in such a familiar, well-worn, melodramatic way that Madison just feels incredibly fond instead of worried. No matter what, it’s good to hear his voice.

“Hey. Is there anything you need from Kroger?”

At first, he only receives a long, pained groan in response. “How can you ask about food? You’ve been gone for so long.”

“Thomas.”

“The sun has risen and set since I saw you last.”

Madison supposes this is technically true, winter days being as short as they are.

“At this rate,” Thomas continues, clearly settling in for a long and comfortable diatribe, “you’re gonna come home and I’ll barely remember your face. We’ll be like strangers to each other.”

“I texted you that I was staying late,” he reminds Thomas mildly.

“Yes,” he says, filling that one word with such dark, haunted significance that Madison can’t help smiling. After all, it doesn’t count as _encouragement_ if Thomas can’t see him. “I guess it’s one thing to read the words, and another to actually live it.”

“‘It’ being—”

“James,” he sighs, the breath leaving him so loudly and suddenly that Madison is almost certain he’s thrown himself prostrate across their bed. “What’ve I done to deserve this? Why’s God gotta make me suffer, when all I ask is companionship?”

Madison clears his throat. “Would you like to ask for any groceries, while you’re at it, or—”

“I’m in agony, James! This isn’t the time.”

He hums patiently, remembers they’re almost out of toothpaste, and adds it in the small blank space remaining, along with ‘ _seasonal fruit?’_ and a little Rx reminder. “All right.”

“But, Doritos.”

“Okay.” He’d put those tentatively on the list already, having been almost sure they were running out, but he circles the word anyway just to make sure he won’t forget.

“If I even feel alive enough to eat them, after so much time without you.”

Madison tries to laugh as silently as possible as he exits the car, sticking the list in his coat pocket so he’ll have a hand free to lock the doors. “You do remember last month, when you worked late for almost two weeks straight?”

“Yeah, but I was busy then. I didn’t have time to miss you.”

“Ah,” says Madison mildly. “Of course.”

“James,” Thomas groans, though that hardly does justice to how long he draws out the name, most likely as testament to his suffering— _Jaaaaaaaaaaames_ —or how his throat creaks miserably around it. “Tell me you love me.”

For the first time since this absurd conversation began, Madison frowns. “Of course I do.”

There’s another gusty sigh across the line. “I guess I can live with that.”

“I’ll see you soon,” James reminds him, and smiles all the way to the checkout line.

 

\--

 

When he gets home, Thomas is predictably nowhere to be found, in keeping with his personal philosophy that putting away groceries is something that only happens to other people. Madison is left to do the job alone, in relative silence but for the music he can barely hear playing upstairs, all of which suits him just fine. He likes to have a few minutes to settle in, after a day as long as this one, which he suspects Thomas knows but will never admit.

Since he already ate dinner, lukewarm takeout at his desk while he typed up reports, there’s not much else to do. He’s too tired to even bother changing clothes. Instead he just toes off his shoes and heads into the living room, sinking into the cushions of his beloved recliner with today’s paper dangling from his fingertips.

Almost immediately, Thomas comes downstairs, footsteps light and quick, and makes a beeline for the chair. He stands over Madison for just a moment, frowning at the exhausted, rumpled state of him.

“Well, it’s about time,” he grumbles before flopping his full weight onto Madison’s lap and then slowly arranging himself more comfortably with his face buried in Madison’s neck.

James lets his newspaper drop and puts his arms around Thomas instead, breathing him in. It’s so relaxing, the familiar sprawling size of Thomas on top of him, weighing him down, nuzzling under his jaw and mumbling something unintelligible.

“Hi,” Madison replies softly, then yawns, letting his eyes drift shut. “Missed you.”

Whatever Thomas says then, pressed into Madison’s throat, sounds a lot like “ _that’s no excuse.”_

They should really make their way to bed, if this is all they’re doing tonight, and Madison tells himself he will, any minute now, while drawing Thomas a little bit closer. Surely he’s earned it after a day like this. Besides, he has it on good authority that after such a long separation, they’re practically strangers to each other. It’ll take a while to get reacquainted.

 


End file.
